


Finding Christmas

by alexandriakeating



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Bucky brings Christmas to him, Christmas, Fluff, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Steve's sick in the hospital, Stucky Secret Santa 2015
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-25
Updated: 2015-12-25
Packaged: 2018-05-09 06:51:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5530028
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alexandriakeating/pseuds/alexandriakeating
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I had a bag of Christmas decorations for Steve. I ran to his apartment and snuck in through the fire escape. That window never locked properly.  It was worth it when he woke up. His eyes were so bright. He had trouble moving because of the cold, so I picked him up and set him by the tree so he could see it properly. I stayed that morning. His mom had saved up to make a cake, with good white sugar. It was delicious. A bit dry, though. She wouldn't stop apologizing for that even after we ate nearly half."</p>
<p>----</p>
<p>Steve's in the hospital for Christmas. When Bucky's memories start coming back to him, he's determined to bring Christmas to Steve, especially if that means sneaking into his room after visiting hours and putting up decorations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Finding Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Brenda](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brenda/gifts).



> Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to everyone! This is my Stucky Secret Santa gift for Brenda. 
> 
> I hope you enjoy!
> 
> This is based on the Christmas AU prompt on Tumblr, “you’re in the hospital for the holidays so i came in while you were sleeping to decorate your room i love you merry christmas”

Finding Christmas

“I'm fine. Don't let the IVs scare you,” Steve slurred under his breath, his eye lids drooping closed before fluttering back open. “I'll be back for Christmas.”

Bucky plucked at the fraying hem of his pant leg and flashed him a reassuring smile. “Of course you will, punk. I can't eat all that food without you.”

Christmas was tomorrow. Steve had been going on and on about the Christmases they'd shared, but Bucky couldn't remember them for the life of him. But, he was trying to play off what Steve told him. He wasn't sure what was so great about this holiday. It was cold and dark outside. The eggnog was good though. He'd give the holiday that.

Steve snorted before falling into a coughing fit. Once his breathing quieted down, he hummed. “It'll be a bit harder now. There's more food. But, I'm sure the others will help.”

“I'll have to save you some of the turkey and sweet potatoes.”

He mustered a fairly threatening gaze from his prostrated position on the hospital bed. “You better.”

Bucky smiled and looked down at his lap. His metal fingers had shredded the hem of his jeans. He winced and set his foot down on the ground, stuffing his hands into his jacket pockets. He remembered Steve being holed up in the hospital a long time ago. That was one thing that was there. The memories were still fuzzy around the edges. But, he'd never seen this version of Steve looking so frail and sick. It didn't sit right. He wasn't fully aware why, but it didn't.

He shifted in the seat; the hard cushions pinching his nerves. He scooted forward and pressed his elbows on the arms of the chair, leaning forward to stare at his shoes.

“Penny for your thoughts,” came Steve's mumbled voice.

Raising his head, he stared out the blinds. All he could make out was a dull gray between the slits.

He paused for a moment, rolling his jumbled thoughts and emotions over in his head and trying to find the correct sounds and tongue placements to get across exactly what his thoughts were.

“I don't like seeing you in the hospital” ended up being what he settled on.

Steve's eyes were closed now, but he smiled, a thin tight-lipped one, yet it was still warm. “You never did,” he slurred.

“Wasn't the serum supposed to take care of this?”

“Tony said that even it had its limitations if I wasn't giving myself time to recover and kept running around like...How did he put it?”

“'A patriotic collie on steroids.'” A cool female voice said from the doorway. “Though, I think you look more like a golden retriever.”

Steve cracked his eyes open for a moment and huffed out a laugh. “Thanks, Nat.”

Bucky looked over his shoulder to see her leaning against the doorway. Sam stood behind her.

“I would've said a chihuahua. Small with too much personality,” Bucky supplied. “But, your bigger now.”

“I would say Great Dane,” Sam said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Cousin's got one. Big guy thinks he's a little puppy the way he jumps up. But, I don't think Steve quite fits that personality.”

“The build is accurate,” Nat agreed.

“I'm sure that's how he was a first,” Bucky returned. “I take that back. He was. Didn't know his own strength, but he took to it.”

“Are you three just going to debate over what dog I am?”

“Yes,” they all answered in unison.

The nurse picked the moment to bustle in and shoo them all away. “Visiting hours are over. You can come back for Christmas. He needs his rest now. Happy holidays,” she said in a rush, not pausing for breath once.

The door shut behind her with a bang.

Bucky stared at it for several minutes until Natasha wrapped her arm through his and pulled him away.

Sam patted his shoulder. “He'll be fine for the night. This'll do him good. Forced rest and relaxation. He'll probably be released tomorrow.”

He stopped outside the elevator.

Natasha and Sam stepped in and waited. When the doors started to close, Sam reached out and held them back. “You coming?”

“Hurry up, James. There's nothing more we can do here. He needs his sleep.”

Bucky frowned for a moment. There was a memory tickling the back of his mind. A light feather brush that could be forgotten if it wasn't so damn annoying. He focused on a seam between two tiles on the floor, trying to grasp a hold of it to make it stop.

“Steve loves Christmas.”

“What was that, Bucky?”

He looked up. “Steve loves Christmas,” he said firmly. “His asthma was always worse during the winter. He was always stiff, too. But, he loved Christmas. He and his mom would always decorate this scrappy little tree on Christmas Eve, and I'd never see him smiling more brightly. I used to help them set it up. I'd stick around for a bit before I headed home.”

His mouth kept running. He couldn't stop. Each memory opened a door to another and another, each memory more specific and trivial than the last.

“I would also go back on Christmas, at night after spending the day with my family. One year, when I was twelve, I got up real early. It was snowing something awful. But, I had a bag of Christmas decorations for Steve. I ran to his apartment and snuck in through the fire escape. That window never locked properly. If you just jimmied it a bit to the left, it would unlock with no problem. I would sneak in that way all the time. It was harder that day because it had frozen stuck. I chipped away the ice with my fingers. They were red and bloody, but I got in. And I decorated. It was a one room apartment, so I had to be real quiet, but I did it. Somehow.

“It was worth it when he woke up. His eyes were so bright. He had trouble moving because of the cold, so I picked him up and set him by the tree so he could see it properly. I stayed that morning. His mom had saved up to make a cake, with good white sugar. It was delicious. A bit dry, though. She wouldn't stop apologizing for that even after we ate nearly half.

“When I finally went home, my dad was mad. I couldn't sit the rest of the day my backside was so sore. But, it was worth it. I was so happy after that Christmas. So warm,” he whispered.

He stared at Natasha and Sam who were still listening expectantly in the elevator. He walked in and pressed the ground floor button. “I'm going to do that again.”

“Decorate his room?” Sam asked.

“Yes.”

“In the hospital?”

“Yes.”

“How? I don't know how apt the nurses are here to let in people outside of visiting hours. They kicked me out religiously after he and y—” he cut himself off and cleared his throat. “The last time he was here.”

“I think I have the skills to slip in,” he murmured staring at his metal fingers as he curled them into a fist before stuffing it into his pocket.

Natasha rested her elbow on his shoulder and leaned over. Her grin gleamed wickedly in the fluorescent lighting. “I'm in. You too, Wilson.”

Sam crossed his arms and stared at them. “No.” He pointed a finger at Natasha's Cheshire grin. “No. You are not getting me involved.” His finger slowly curled back into his fist. He tensed it and raised his hand for a moment like he was about to hit the wall before letting his hand fall unfulred at his side. “Fine. What do you need me to do?”

Natasha's grin deepened. She stepped back and turned to Bucky. “Waiting for your orders.”

Bucky nodded. “First we'll need some bags.”

***********

Tony had dumped a garish amount of twinkling lights, tinsel and garland into the bags. He had slapped Bucky's shoulder and tapped his finger to the side of his nose. “Make it as loud and as obnoxious as possible.”

Natasha and Sam had offered to help him decorate, but he'd shooed them out the moment they dumped the last of the bags into Steve's room. This was something he had to do by himself.

He twisted the lights and garland together, looping them around the room. He spent a solid hour cutting out paper snowflakes and hanging them from the ceiling with a mixture of tape, paperclips, and thumbtacks. He hung everyone's stockings on the end of his bed and dropped a handful of candy into each one. He pulled up the blinds and sprayed the windows with fake snow. He set a poinsettia on the desk by Steve's head. He'd even set up a small nativity scene he'd found at a store they'd passed. It looked just like the one Steve's mother used to have, though a bit nicer and newer. He was happy he had made it before the shop had closed.

As he pulled out Steve's presents, he realized his mistake.

He'd forgotten the tree.

Tony had offered him one, but it was too big and neat.

Setting the presents back in the bag, he assessed what he still had. A couple ornaments, tinsel, one strand of large-bulbed colored lights, and the presents.

He needed the tree.

He snuck out as quietly as he had come in.

Where was he going to get a tree this late?

He passed two lots in four blocks, but both were closed. It would have been easy to jump the small fences and take one, but he didn't want to give Steve a stolen tree. None was better than that. He deserved more than a stolen tree. Besides, their branches were full and green and alive. They were all strong and sturdy and everything you could want in a tree, but none of them were right.

Bucky spied one more lot in the distance. He ran. His breath puffed out in front of him in white clouds. Praying he'd make it.

The old man was hunched over the gate, threading a chain through the fence. He looked up at Bucky's thudding approach. “Sorry, sir. Just missed out. Sold my last tree five minutes ago,” he said, gesturing to a retreating car with a tree strapped to his roof.

“There's only that scrawny, scrap of a tree left,” he said, jutting his thumb over his shoulder. “Shouldn't have waited this late.”

Bucky followed the direction the man pointed and blinked. He grabbed the man's arm. “That's perfect.”

He shrugged and pulled out the chain. “Just take it. I ain't gonna be selling that thing.”

“Thank you,” he said, a bit harsher than he expected. He dashed inside and grabbed the small thing.

Its branches were few and far between, and they were sparsely filled with needles. The ends drooped down a bit, but it still managed to stand proud and defiant.

It was perfect.

Bucky smiled as he picked it up and cradled it in his arms. He directed what he hoped looked to be a friendly grin at the old man and ran back to the hospital, tossing a “Merry Christmas!” over his shoulder.

Propping the tree up in the corner of the hospital room, he tucked the presents underneath it. He draped the tinsel over the branches and hung the few ornaments he had. Bucky pulled out the lights. The strand got caught around his feet and he pitched forward, just catching himself in time before he face-planted into the tree.

But, he didn't stop the “Shit” that tumbled from his mouth.

He froze.

Steve was never a very heavy sleeper. He'd gotten by on luck up until now.

There was a rustling behind him.

Bucky glanced over his shoulder.

The mound of blankets shifted and then stilled.

He didn't breathe for a heartbeat.

And another.

By the time he got to twenty, he allowed himself to relax. Quickly, he wrapped the lights around the tree and plugged it in to see if they lit. They did. He unplugged them, but not before,

“Who'sthere?” a muffled voice slurred.

“Shit.”

“Bucky?” Steve's voice was clearer.

Bucky turned to see Steve sitting up in bed, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. The blankets pooled around his waist.

“Hold on, keep your eyes closed.”

“Buck—”

“Please.”

“Okay.”

Steve lowered his hand, but his eyes remained closed.

Crossing the room, he plugged in the lights he'd looped around the room. He gave everything a once over before nodding to himself. “You can open your eyes now, Stevie.”

His blue eyes widened in astonishment, taking a slow, lingering sweep of the room.

“Merry Christmas,” Bucky said in a hushed voice.

“Buck,” Steve choked out.

“I remembered how you loved Christmas. I found the perfect tree, too.”

Steve swung his legs off the bed and made to stand up, but the IV held him back. He reached back to rip it out.

Bucky put his hand over the embedded needle and line. “I don't think the nurses would appreciate that. And Sam and Natasha would take turns ripping you a new one.” He tried to pull his lips in what he remembered a smirk to be. “After I did, of course. Just stay on the bed for now.”

Steve's hands clutched the edge of the mattress. His bare feet planted on the ground, and his head bowed. His shoulders shook, and his breathing got shorter.

“Steve? Steve? Stevie, are you all right?” Bucky asked, placing his hands on his shoulders.

He looked up. Tears traced paths down his cheeks, but his smile was wide. “I'm fine,” he assured him, placing a hand over Bucky's. His thumb stroke the skin on the back of his hand. “I'm happy. This is amazing.” His eyes darted around the room, hovering for a few seconds longer on the nativity and the tree.

He turned back to Bucky. “You haven't called me Stevie in,” his voice caught and his smiled faltered slightly before it was back full force. “I'm happy to hear it. And the decorations are wonderful. Do you remember, when you were twelve, you snuck in and did this. No where near this extravagant, but it was sweet. It was my favorite present.”

“Yeah. I remembered.”

“Do you remember my present that year?” His question was eager.

Bucky's brows puckered. He shuffled through nothing, trying to find writing on a chalkboard that had long been erased. He could almost make out the fuzzy dust of something that used to be there.

“It's okay if you don't,” Steve said, reaching up to squeeze his shoulder.

He remembered something warm, though. Something that made the beating for sneaking out more than bearable. He thought it had just been the smile on Steve's face at the decorations but there _was_ something else.

Steve dropped his hands into his lap. “I should be getting back to sleep.”

“Yeah,” Bucky whispered. His hand moved to cup Steve's cheek. It felt natural. His muscles had the action burned into their memory even if he could remember doing this. His thumb soothed small circles on the rough stubble growing in on his cheeks.

Blue eyes turned up to his, wide and cautious. The white Christmas lights shone in his wide pupils. His lips were parted, quiet and expectant.

The sensitive skin of his thumb brushed against the corner of Steve's lips. He sucked in a breath at the smooth warmth.

Steve's breath hitched, too.

He lifted his hand to trace the bow of his lips, sparks shocking his muscles. His fingers twitched. Steve's breath was hot against his skin. Bucky leaned forward and pressed their foreheads together.

Steve stilled, breathing heavily and letting Bucky move and touch as he wanted.

This was familiar.

He knew this.

He didn't know why, but this was what was missing.

His eyes flew open. He watched Steve's eyes shift underneath his closed eyelids.

That's what made him so warm that Christmas. Steve's gift.

He slowly leaned forward and brushed their lips together.

Steve arched his neck. His arms wrapped around Bucky's waist and pulled him closer until his knees hit the hospital bed.

It was hot and wet, but Steve's lips were smooth against his. His breath was stale, but it was Steve. He wanted it all. His fingers clamped onto Steve's neck and held him close. Bucky pressed into his chest. Hot hair engulfed his nose.

It was Steve.

Steve was everywhere. Around him. Against him. In him. Every smell, every taste, every touch was Steve. His body buzzed with excitement as he bit down on his lip, and Steve hissed in pain.

He pulled away. His heart thudded in his chest.

“Buck,” Steve whispered. His voice was rough and scratchy. There was a pearl of blood in the center of his bottom lip.

“I'm sorry.”

“No. No.” He ran his hands up and down Bucky's side.

He traced the bottom of his lip. “You're bleeding. I'm sorry.”

“I accept your apology, and I forgive you for that. But, please,” his voice cracked, “don't apologize for kissing me.”

Bucky shook his head. “I won't. But, you need to get to sleep.”

“Can you stay?”

Bucky smirked. “It's after visiting hours.”

“That never stopped you before.”

“The others will wonder where I am.” He pulled back and pointed at Steve like he was scolding a little kid. “You need to act surprised when everyone comes tomorrow to wake you up.”

“Will do.” He winked conspiratorially.

Bucky chuckled and pressed a kiss to his temple, backing away slowly and watching Steve's face to make sure that was okay.

Steve only smiled wider.

There were two more quiet kisses before he finally snuck out.

And, true to his word, Steve acted surprise when everyone woke him up Christmas morning at the beginning of visiting hours, though it was a bit overdone if Bucky was being a completely honest. But, no one else noticed.

They also didn't notice the lingering touches and soft kisses on knuckles and temples.

Or, maybe they did, but no one said anything about it, but the tree was very much a hot topic.

“I love the Charlie Brown Christmas tree,” Tony said. “Fits our humble Cap.”

“Kinda scrawny,” Clint said tossing some Chex Mix into his mouth.

“It's perfect,” Steve defended. He squeezed Bucky's hand. “I'm glad you found it.”

“I'm glad I remembered.”

“I'm glad you found Christmas again.” Steve smiled, cheeky at first but it settled into fondness.

“Same.” He gave Steve a rakish grin before waving Natasha over to refill his mug with more eggnog. Eggnog wasn't the best part of this holiday, but it was still pretty good.

 


End file.
